This sense of abandonment
was made even worse by the way that
American films, television shows, and
other media portrayed Vietnam veter-
ans throughout the 1970s. Their
wartime experiences rarely were given
any serious attention. Instead, movies
and television shows typically por-
trayed them as pitiful, drug-addicted
losers or homicidal maniacs. To the
many veterans who had served their
country honorably in Vietnam despite
enormous hardships, these sorts of
characterizations seemed particularly
cruel and unfair.
Changing attitudes
toward veterans
The image of America’s Viet-
nam veterans finally began to change
in the early 1980s. One important fac-
tor in this transformation was the
increased public support that veter-
ans received from some of the
nation’s political leaders. Presidential
candidate Ronald Reagan (1911–;
president 1981–1989) declared in
1980, for example, that the effort in
Vietnam “was a noble cause . . . . We
have been shabby in our treatment of
those who returned. They fought as
well and as bravely as any Americans have ever fought in any
war. They deserve our gratitude, our respect, and our contin-
uing concern.”
Another event that changed American attitudes toward
Vietnam veterans was the Iran hostage crisis. In November
1979, militant Iranians, angered over U.S. support for Iran’s
previous government, took 66 Americans hostage. Thirteen of
the prisoners were soon released, but the remaining hostages
were held captive for 444 days. They were finally released in
282 Vietnam War: Almanac
Night Sounds in
Postwar Vietnam
In 1999, veteran and author
Philip Caputo returned to Vietnam,
where he had been a marine platoon
leader in 1965 and 1966. Writing in
National Geographic Adventure, he talks
about the vast difference between
wartime Vietnam and its postwar
atmosphere:
At two in the morning . . . I pad
outside through the courtyard gate and
down a pitch-black path. If ever I’m
going to suffer a flashback, it would be
now, but I don’t. Hearing crickets sing
and frogs chirrup near the riverbank and
in the paddies, I recall listening to those
sounds on watch [during the war];
listening for them to fall silent. When the
frogs and crickets stopped, it meant that
someone—or a whole battalion for all
you knew—was moving around out
there in the black unknown beyond your
foxhole, and you waited with every sense
alert, every nerve tensed for a burst of
gunfire, a grenade to come arcing out of
the underbrush. But now the chorus goes
on without interruption, the ceaseless
song of ordinary and peaceful night.
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